[alaklondewen]

Everyday we are coming closer to the white city, Silmaethor. Taitheneb waited for a reply, but did not receive it. Erebemlin knew exactly where they were and how close they were to Minas Tirith. After several moments, the younger Elf continued. Will we go into the city to replenish our supplies?

Nay, Nimrodel is not within its walls, so we shall not grace them either. Actually, Erebemlin was unsure what would happen when they came close to the city. Amroth’s mission must be continued, but if he did not resurface soon…the Elf knew not what the young Blacksmith would do. He wanted to stay clear of the city so the man was not tempted to return to his family and relinquish the quest.

“Has anyone seen, Aeron?” Bella’s voice interrupted the Elves private conversation, and they both turned curiously over their shoulders to face the fire.

“I heard him say something about getting wood, but…” Mellonin looked over both of her shoulders and squinted into the dark beyond the firelight. “That was some time ago,” she said after several moments.

Taitheneb raised his eyebrows and turned his eyes toward Erebemlin. The tall Elf tightened his jaw and audibly exhaled through his flaring nostrils.

“Should we look for him?” Leafa inquired innocently.

“No,” Erebemlin snapped, not necessarily at the young Rohirrim, but at the whole mortal race. “We have left the dangers of the swamps behind. If the foolish boy wishes to leave the group and cause trouble…leave him to it.”